


if i loved you less (i might be able to talk about it more)

by rxpunzels



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Fluff and Humor, M/M, loosely based on Emma by Jane Austen, richie tozier has the biggest heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22929439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxpunzels/pseuds/rxpunzels
Summary: After successfully setting up his two friends, Ben and Beverly, CEO Edward Kaspbrak is determined to find a match for his new receptionist, Patty. He deems accountant, Stanley Uris, unsuitable which frustrates his best friend and business partner, Richie. And the further into his mission he gets, the more Richie criticizes his stuck-up attitude.Eddie's never cared when people disagreed with him before. So why does it sting so much when Richie does?a.k.a the Emma au that nobody asked for.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36





	if i loved you less (i might be able to talk about it more)

Eddie Kaspbrak decides it’s about high time he put a lock on his office door when it swings open and clatters off the adjacent wall, revealing a gangly, bespectacled, sandwich-wielding shithead on the other side.

“Wedding photos are up!” Richie announces, striding over to Eddie’s desk and unceremoniously dropping the wrapped sandwich on top of it. BLT and avocado with a Chipotle dressing. Ever since he realised that Eddie was actually willing to take a chance with eating deli bacon he’s memorised the order and shown up every Monday morning with one at the ready. It might be endearing right now if Eddie isn’t preoccupied with glaring at him.

“Ever heard of knocking, asshole?” he glowers.

Richie shrugs unapologetically. “You’d see me coming anyway.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and bends his head to look back down at the papers in front of him. “And why’s that?” he asks, absent-mindedly chewing on the end of his pen before catching himself and spitting it out.

“Uh…” Richie backs up, doing so as loudly and dramatically as possible. Eddie reluctantly lifts his head to watch him because he knows Richie will only start to show off more if he’s ignored. 

He watches as Richie exits the door to Eddie’s office and then sharply turns to the side, knocking on the glass wall and waving wildly at Eddie through it. He puffs air into his cheeks and makes his face go bug-eyed.

Knowing full fucking well that Richie can hold this pose for longer than anyone in their right mind would want him to, Eddie sighs and gives him the middle finger as a sign of acknowledgement. It satisfies Richie who strolls happily back into the office. “Still glass. That’s what I thought.”

“I was busy. Doing actual work. We have a business to run, remember?” Eddie pointedly gestures to the surrounding documents as if to drive home the idea that a greeting card company can’t stay above ground if he doesn’t get time to read the latest intranet announcements.

Kardbrak Cards was founded by Frank Kaspbrak years before Eddie was born, and it had never occurred to Eddie that he wouldn’t want to inherit it once his father retired. The Hallmark-esque company didn’t have any shares in white, heterosexual movies yet but it was the go-to online card company whenever you needed to send a special wish to that special someone. At least that’s how Wentworth Tozier described it when he rocketed to the top of the marketing team and brought his son (and childhood friend of Eddie’s) with him. Richie might be a pain in the ass ninety-nine percent of the time but he’s Eddie’s best friend, even if he does mostly want to wring his neck whenever he sees his face.

He knows what people say about the two of them. If Richie’s position as the new Chief of Marketing raised any eyebrows, then Eddie’s heard a good number of reasons why. Nepotism tends to be the most popular, followed shortly by him sleeping with Eddie. Which is just downright laughable.

Especially with the way he’s eating his sandwich, open-mouth and disgustingly noisy.

“Oh yeah, fuck I forgot that’s why I came here Monday to Friday. I thought it was just so I could be your personal breakfast delivery boy,” Richie says, around a mouthful of his own meatball sub.

“Close your mouth, you fucking animal,” Eddie says, shuffling the papers in an attempt to look busy. He scratches his temple. “Wait, what were you saying when you first came in? Something about wedding photos?”

It hits him all of a sudden and he sits up straight in his chair.

“From Bev and Ben’s wedding?”

Richie nods and swallows his food in one large gulp, washing it down with his usual cup of fountain Coke.

“Yeah, they’re on the photographer’s website.”

Eddie swings around in his chair so he can face his computer and immediately begins tapping the web address in.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Richie says. “What the fuck is this?”

He points at the desk toy Eddie has on display. His face creases into something akin to horror as he hunches down to get to eye-level with it. The constant _click-click-click_ of it smashes right through Eddie’s embarrassed silence. Honestly, a sonic boom might have been quieter.

“It’s Newton’s cradle,” Eddie snaps.

“Uh huh,” Richie nods, non-plussed. “And what is that when it’s at home exactly?”

Eddie blinks stupidly and then abruptly gestures to the toy. “It’s Newton’s cradle.”

Richie grins at him. “You have no clue, do you?”

“It was a _gift._ ”

“From who? Someone you pissed off?” By now Richie’s turning the whole thing into a game, sticking his finger in and out of the space between the last and second last balls, pulling it back out before the metal pieces can click against each other again.

“Shut the fuck up, assface,” Eddie says haughtily. “If you must know I got it from…”

Richie lifts his cup to his mouth.

“It was from Myra and-” He pulls the cup away from Richie, but the straw remains clenched in his teeth. “And don’t fucking dare pretend to do a spit take because I know that’s what you were gonna fucking do.”

Richie is shameless in his cheery nod of agreement. He’s developed a fake Pavlovian response to any mention of Eddie’s horrific ex, engaging in dramatic displays of terror whenever she’s brought up. It’s not funny and Eddie scratches his mouth to hide a smile.

Turning away from that shit-eating grin Richie is wearing, Eddie looks at his computer. The pictures have loaded now and Eddie leans forward, propping his chin on the palm of his hand as he scrolls through them.

“Lemme see!” Richie says, scooting the wheeled chair around to Eddie’s side of the desk and sliding towards him, purposefully crashing into Eddie so their thighs bump against each other.

“Man-child,” Eddie mutters.

“Stick in the mud,” Richie retorts pleasantly before sticking his bottom lip out in a pout. “Bevvy looks so good!”

He’s right. Eddie tilts his head to the side to admire the picture of Bev in her wedding dress, thrusting her bouquet into the air in celebration. And looking at the groom, there’s a lot to celebrate. Ben looks just as dapper and beautiful in his suit. His tie is missing and even though it’s not in the shot, Eddie knows it’s because it had ended up tied around Richie’s head.

“They’re the most attractive couple in the world,” Eddie says.

“Only until Sonia stops playing hard to get. Then she and I have it in the bag,” Richie replies automatically. He barely reacts to the glare Eddie gives him.

“Don’t fucking bring up my mom.”

“Whatever you say, Spaghetti. Come on, what else is there?” He nudges Eddie in the side until Eddie relents and clicks on the next photo in the slideshow.

They flick through photos of Ben and Bev kissing chastely after their vows, aww’ing appropriately at the picture of Ben’s cousin’s little daughter dutifully fulfilling her role of flower girl.

“She told me she was in love with me,” Richie says proudly.

“Poor kid. Shit taste like that,” Eddie comments. It bounces right off Richie who’s too busy letting out a whoop and punching the air when they move to a photo of another kiss that’s decidedly less chaste than the earlier one. It was clearly initiated by Bev but looking at the pink tinge on Ben’s ears as she grabs his shirt collar (because the resolution on these photos is so fucking clear), it’s hard to believe he was opposed.

“Get it, Bev!” Richie says proudly.

“They look so happy,” Eddie smiles. “That was all down to me, you know.”

Richie groans and flops back in the chair. “Not this again.”

“Well, I made it happen!”

“Literally how, Eddie?” Richie stares at the ceiling and drums his fingers against his stomach, his untucked work shirt riding up to expose a strip of pale-white flesh. Eddie’s gaze darts away.

“I introduced them!”

“They were gonna meet anyway,” Richie points out and Eddie shoves at his arm just for something to do.

“Bev works on a completely different floor. If I didn’t make so many excuses for her to come up here when Ben was renovating my office design, they never would have hit it off so well.”

“Uh, ‘scuse the fuck outta me,” Richie interrupts, pointing a finger at Eddie. “I was _there_ when they first met. Bev was only bringing you a stapler-”

“Which I didn’t actually need,” Eddie interjects smugly.

“All Ben had to do was lay eyes on her and he was a goner. I _saw_ the look on his face when she walked in. He’d still have looked at her like that if she was handing out flyers for _Waitress_ in Times Square.”

“That’s so fucking specific,” Eddie replies moodily, because he knows Richie has a point but _still_.

“I got hit on by a girl handing out flyers for _Waitress_ in Times Square when I was getting these sandwiches,” Richie explains and takes a large bite of meatballs and bread.

Eddie hums non-committedly, something curling unpleasantly in his gut.

“Anyway, I’m still the reason Ben and Bev got married.”

“You just keep telling yourself that, Eds.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Hey, look at that one!” Richie leans forward, crowding into Eddie’s space. He seemingly doesn’t notice when Eddie’s back goes ramrod straight.

“What are you – oh,” Eddie cuts himself off and tries not to let the delight show on his face when he sees the next photo on the screen.

It’s one of him and Richie, the latter still wearing Ben’s tie around his head. His own is loose around his neck and Eddie is studiously attempting to re-tie it, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth in concentration. In all honesty, it’s a pretty shit picture of himself, but Eddie is mostly concentrating on how the image documents Richie’s arm wrapped snugly around his waist and the way he’s grinning down at Eddie. Fond and amused.

Eddie’s heart does a giddy little flip in his chest and he presses his mouth into a thin line, trying to look stern. “I look so fucking awful in that,” he complains. “And you look like a blitzed giraffe.”

Richie snorts. “Shut up, you little turd. You look fucking hot.”

There’s no denying the blush on Eddie’s cheeks but at least he can masquerade it as annoyance. “Shut up!”

He goes to click away from the photo but Richie’s hand lands heavily on top of his. “No, wait! I wanna keep this one.”

Eddie swallows roughly and side-eyes him. “What?”

Richie turns his gaze on Eddie, eyes wide and magnified behind his lenses. “I wanna keep it. We can buy this shit, right? Isn’t that what the website’s for?”

“I guess…” Eddie says, dragging his eyes back to the screen. He isn’t so surprised that Richie wants to keep the photo. While Eddie’s apartment is stark and white and a minimalist’s wet dream, Richie’s is, in contrast, a junkyard of memories documenting their journey from kids making mud pies in the wastelands of Derry with Bev (Eddie was always an unwilling participant) to college roommates to business partners.

He keeps everything from arcade prizes, stubs from science-fiction double features and ‘first visit’ badges they got on their trip to Disney World, to a copy of their first business contracts and a framed photo of them graduating high school sitting next to his bed.

Once upon a time, Eddie never really knew how to interpret Richie’s obsessive need to store everything but now he realises that Richie has instant access to a quick dose of serotonin, whether he needs it in the form of Eddie’s yearbook photo (the unsightly immortalisation of a freckled, brace-faced waif of a boy) or (and this one continues to be fucking horrifying) the first pregnancy test Bev had ever taken and the beer-sodden coaster they’d stolen from the bar they’d celebrated at when it turned out negative.

“Buy it if you want,” Eddie says, forcing as much casualness as he can muster into his tone. “But get the hell outta my office. I have shit to do.”

Richie smirks and slides the chair backwards, finally giving Eddie room to breathe.

“Alright, I can take a hint. Tell the new receptionist I said hey.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. “What?”

“Your new receptionist,” Richie frowns. “Isn’t she starting today?”

Eddie shakes his head, an uneasy feeling creeping into his gut. “No? She doesn’t start until the twenty-fourth.”

Richie stares at him and it’s beginning to dawn on Eddie that matters have gone colossally wrong somewhere down the line, but he’s still praying Richie won’t open his big mouth and bring it to attention. Eddie would like to just have a nice, relaxing day for five more fucking seconds.

“ _Jesus_ , Spagheds, what’s the point in you having a desk calendar if you have it pointing the wrong fucking way?” Richie reaches out, grabs the item in question and turns it around so it’s facing Eddie.

The large, printed ‘24’ that stares back at him makes Eddie want to scream.

“Oh, shit!” Eddie hisses, launching himself out of his chair. “I’m an asshole!”

“Hey, don’t talk about my best friend like that!” Richie calls as Eddie speeds past him. “He can’t help being stupid!”

***

Running face first into a potted plant is not the kind of first impression Eddie wants to make on the slim, dark-haired woman sitting primly in the waiting area of the office.

When he does so anyway, he hears her let out a quiet exclamation before she’s standing up.

“My goodness! Are you okay?” she asks, a hand pressed to her crisp, white shirt.

“All good!” Eddie replies. He’s loud in his reassurance which only make his voice crack. Face red with humiliation, he turns to the woman after steadying the plant and holds out a hand.

“Edward Kaspbrak. I’m _so_ sorry I’m late to greet you. Have you been waiting long?”

The woman smiles warmly and Eddie relaxes a little. “Not at all!” She takes his hand and shakes it firmly. “I’m Patricia Blum.”

***

Patricia or ‘call-me-Patty’ turns out to be an angel sent from heaven.

She’s quick and organised and efficient and if she looks through the glass wall of his office and sees Eddie with his head buried in his hands, she automatically screens his calls and send him a double thumbs-up through the window.

If he was into women, he might fancy himself a little bit in love with her.

“We could have used you on Valentine’s Day,” he says to her when there’s no more message alerts in his inbox. “It was crazy then.”

“I was too busy spending time with my cat and a pint of ice cream,” she grins, setting down his schedule for the next again week. She’s colour-coded it because she’s a goddamn delight.

“You don’t have a partner?” Eddie asks, genuinely surprised. His cheeks colour when he realises his words can be misconstrued. “I _sincerely_ promise that’s not a come on. I’m not interested in women. Not that that grants me diplomatic immunity from workplace harassment, but I was just – anyway, ignore me. You don’t have to answer that question.”

Patty snickers. The noise is goofy and totally unrefined but Eddie doesn’t turn his nose up at it like he would if he heard it from anyone else. He’s just glad she’s not mad at him for being intrusive.

“I don’t have a partner, no. Men don’t really seem interested in me,” she shrugs. It genuinely doesn’t seem to bother her, but Eddie chews on his lip anyway.

His eyes sweep over to his computer screen where the window displaying Ben and Bev’s wedding photos are still open.

“Their loss,” Eddie tells Patty, making her smile. His tone suggests that’s the end of the conversation, but as Patty leaves his office and he turns back to his computer screen, smiling a little at the happy result of one little match-making escapade, Eddie can’t help but think there’s no harm in trying it out again.

**Author's Note:**

> I am absolutely still writing my fix-it fic, but this idea wouldn't leave my head and tbh I need to write something fluffy. So please enjoy the utter ridiculousness of this.
> 
> If you want to come talk to me, please hit me up on tumblr (@josephinesmarch) and twitter (@rxpunzelss) where I'm posting an equally fluffy dog-walking social media au.


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